Fishing alone: What we really learn foraging during COVID-19 coronavirus pandemic

When was the last time you fished all by your lonesome? Been a while I’ll bet.

So many fishermen I know call me wanting to go with them and when I say I have other commitments and they should hop in their boat and go by themselves, the majority of time they hem and haw saying, “I’ll just wait until you are free and we can go.”

I guess growing up here when there were just a handful of kids, and even fewer who liked to fish, fishing solo was normal for me. Back when there were only a few homes in Sea Pines, I would sit cross-legged for hours fishing in the lagoon near the tiny clubhouse when there was only one golf course in that development.

There were no floodgates and every day that lagoon flushed in and out with the tides and the number of species was unbelievable. Huge redfish, huge trout, monster flounder, tarpon, shrimp, crabs and even an occasional snook.

It was during this period that I actually preferred fishing by myself.

The only time people would be around me was when I hooked into a monster redfish and to keep the fish from spooling my reel, I would run around the lagoon reeling like crazy so I could keep just enough line on the reel so I wouldn’t lose the fish. These instances would catch the attention of passing golfers and much to the chagrin of the golf pro at that time, Wally Palmer, all play would get bottled up because the golfers would stop and watch waiting to see what in the heck I had hooked.

The reason I brought this up should be pretty obvious, considering the state of things right now.

Because I am so used to fishing alone, this COVID-19 coronavirus pandemic hasn’t freaked me out as much as many others I know.

Yesterday, I noticed more people out on the road and if I had to guess they are getting antsy being cooped up at home for the past few weeks. I can totally relate, but at the same time I have broken up long periods of isolation by trying a more pleasant form of isolation.

Grabbing my rod and reel, I either jump in my boat or hit some lagoons, foraging for that night’s dinner.

Sheepshead one night, flounder the next and so on. But more importantly, I have started to actually like myself. I know that sounds odd, but if ever there was a time to spend some solo time and introspection, this is that time. These solo missions have brought me closer to myself than I have been in quite some time.

Even watching a TV show and seeing people shaking hands, hugging one another and other up-close and personal encounters, I now find it so strange.

I hate to say I am getting used to this new normal but quite frankly, I am.

Other than my wife, Karen, I have pretty much isolated myself from just about everyone, including my dearest and closest friends. I may talk to them on the phone but that is about as far as I go.

I reckon this is how inmates in our penal system feel when put into isolation. But be that as it may, they sure as heck can’t go fishing or sit in the woods waiting on a big gobbler to come to their call.

Other than fishing, I will say that pets have kept me sane, if that is at all feasible.

Hanging with my beagle, Butterbean, and three totally awesome cats is almost better company than people. They are always glad to see me, never argue, and listen to my droning on and on about this or that without outwardly displaying just how boring I can be.

Maybe when this is all over, I’ll simply hang with the animals, fish solo and, overall, be a happier (but stranger) person.

My suggestion to all of you is take this incredible segment of history to explore yourself, and I mean really explore yourself.

Take a long walk in the woods, grab your rod and reel and fish solo, and no matter which avenue you choose, stick to it until you get comfortable with yourself.

I really think that this approach will make you a better all-around person when we come out the end of this long, dark tunnel.

This story was originally published April 12, 2020 at 7:55 AM.